


Notes in the Margins

by 1lostone



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Fluff, Humor, I BLAME JLM121, M/M, RickylWritersGroup, Tropetastic elements, Visuals embedded in the fic, denial ain't just a river in egypt, silliness, slightly over the top sexual identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-04-14 22:33:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4582626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/pseuds/1lostone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick finds Carol's fanfiction... about him and Daryl.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>12 November, Edit:  It was pointed out to me in the comments that the images can't be translated into other languages, so I am adding text into the fic at the bottom of each chapter.  Sorry about that!</p><p>16 March, Edit: AHHHH the flipping host site crashed!  I reuploaded and fixed everything. I AM SO SORRY!</p><p>22 September, Edit. <b> MOTHERFUCKING PHOTOBUCKET.</b>  Okay, I uploaded them to <i> another</i> site. *crosses fingers that everything works now!*</p><h2>Because I have had so much trouble with this fic, I am <a href="https://www.dropbox.com/s/lb25e596zzk6y6v/Notes%20in%20the%20Margins.pdf?dl=0">offering a pdf to download</a>- before another image hosting services decides to either die or hold the images hostage.</h2>
<h2></h2>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jlm121](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jlm121/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Fanart TWD](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4285650) by [lucife56](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucife56/pseuds/lucife56). 



> There are embedded images in the fic. Please let me know if I fark something up and you can't see them. I haven't tested them on any mobile devices, but they were fine on my laptop and tablet!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Written as the 'trope assignment' for the RickylWritersGroup.

Rick didn’t know why he looked.  He shouldn’t have looked. It was a shitty, _shitty_ thing to do to a woman like Carol, especially when they were already living on top of one another like sardines in a can.  It was probably the fact that it had been so obviously hidden that had sparked his curiosity, and he’d never been one to put it off when it came knockin’ on his door.

 

At first, Rick didn’t know what he was looking at. Carol had asked him to go get her white sweater, because the prison had gotten a bit cold with the onset of winter. She was watching Judith for him while most everyone else had gone on a run. They had all ganged up on him insisting that he take the day off. Rick had enjoyed a leisurely lie-in, and had stumbled out to find Carol giving Judith a bath.

 

It was a simple request, and he’d gone into her cell with no worries, like any one of them would do for one another.  His gunbelt had gotten caught on a stack of books, and they’d fallen over onto Carol’s bunk, sending the thin mattress scrunching up against the wall, all cock-eyed.  When Rick had bent down to pick up the books, the notebook had popped out at him. There wasn’t even anything special about the damn thing. A composition notebook with some kind of stain on the cover, the words ‘my journal’ written in black ink staring out at him from the cover.

 

He’d actually thought it might have belonged to one of the long-dead inmates, until he’d opened up to a random page:

  


 

Holy motherfucking _shit._

 

 

Rick slammed the book’s covers shut with so much force his hair poofed back, feeling his cheeks burn with heat. He blinked rapidly several times, clearing his throat, eyes stealing around the small cell as though he had an audience staring at him in judgement.

 

No one was there. The gay police didn’t know he’d read... _what_ did he just read?!

 

It was almost automatic- this need to see if what he’d just read was what he thought he just read. Rick opened the book to another part of the notebook.

  

 

 

“Rick?”

 

Rick jumped as though he’d been goosed, and shut the notebook again. Fortunately he’d been curled around the notebook. His body hid that he had been reading, and it was easy enough to gather up the rest of the books and turn to smile up at Carol as he shoved the Notebook of Pornography in the middle of the stack.  His grin might have been a little off, but she was blushing and so badly flustered that Rick didn’t think that she had noticed.

 

“Sorry about that. Found your sweater but klutzed out a bit. Knocked over these books.”  

 

She smiled a little, not meeting his gaze.  Rick was too embarrassed to do much more than shove the books at her, hoping she wouldn’t realize that he’d read it.  

 

Carol took the books and busied herself restacking them.  Rick left as soon as he possibly could, heading straight out to the fences and bypassing any sort of human interaction. Not that anyone was here. Had they been here Rick wasn’t entirely sure that he’d have been able to speak in normal English.

 

Cleaning the fences was dull work, but its repetitiveness was helpful whenever he needed to think through something, and finding that the mild-mannered, kind of shy woman that cooked and cleaned and mothered all of them wrote really explicit gay pornography about him and his best friend was something that Rick found that he damn well needed to think through.

 

The putrid stench of the rotting walkers greeted him as he stalked forward, ignoring their increased activity as they saw their dinner come up to them.  Rick removed the knife from its holster and twisted his grip, holding it in his tightened fist. He started cleaning out the ones closest to him, keeping his fingers well out of the way of their snarling teeth.

 

Rick found it hard not to feel guilty about reading what had to have been Carol’s private.... stuff. The long and short of it was that he was ashamed at himself.  Privacy was hard enough to come by, living as they did all crammed together in the prison like that.

 

But on the other hand....

 

That had been... dicks! and Asses! And Bulging Muscles! Daryl had.  But then Rick had.... _Christ!_

 

Rick had never even _thought_ about doing... that. Okay maybe he’d thought about it a tiny bit. Once. Three times. The _point_ was that Carol had been writing.... that while she took care of his innocent baby girl!  

 

Okay it was possible that he was panicking a wee bit. Rick squinted at the walker in front of him. “That’s probably normal, right? To fantasize about uh. People you know?”

 

The walker didn’t respond.

 

Rick sighed and stabbed it in the eye, dancing back so that the ooze didn’t get on his clothes. He flung the blood and viscera off of his blade and tapped at the metal of the fence so the lumbering one from a bit further off would hear him and come investigate.  Rick waited patiently, absolutely not thinking about anything that may or may not have been burned permanently into his retinas. _Nope._

 

Rick frowned at the walker when it got stuck behind the small pile of dead ones that he’d already killed. Rick moved down his side of the fence and it followed him.

 

“But that other stuff she wrote- that was... almost true. I _do_ think that way about Daryl. That’s not made up. It’s real, right?”

 

The walker snarled in response.

 

Rick nodded.  “Yeah. That’s what I thought too. Damn it, I wish I’d never read the damn thing.”

 

“Read what?”

 

Rick almost jumped out of his goddamn boots.  He killed the walker then turned, staring at Daryl with an utterly horrified look on his face, as though Daryl somehow knew what he'd been thinking.

 

“Were you just...?”

 

Rick cocked his head, as though waiting for Daryl to finish his question. “Was I...what?”

 

“Nothin’. Musta been the sun." Daryl pinched the top of his nose. "Just wanted to let you know that we’re back. Carol let us in. Got some good stuff for a change. You ‘bout done here?”

 

Rick nodded, his heart pounding in his chest.  His eyes skated over Daryl, noticing that his friend was standing a little closer than, say, he’d stand to Glenn. Rick couldn’t help but notice that Daryl had torn the arms out of his shirt despite the cooler weather, and his biceps were rather thickly-muscled. They looked good even covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

 

Wait. They looked good?

 

Aw.... _shit._

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

**Image 1:**

'My Journal'

 

**Image 2:**

his thickly-muscled arms bulged as he took Rick’s weight, feeling the slickness of the lube and the heat of his ass as he worked his dick inside slowly, inch by careful inch. Rick’s low drawl was thick in his throat, almost strangled as he threw his head back, moaning Daryl’s name over and over until

 

 

**Image 3:**

The problem was that Rick had started to think about Daryl in was that Daryl definitely wouldn’t approve. It had snuck up on him.  Maybe it was the way that Daryl smiled down at Judith. Or the way Daryl had shown Carl how to skin a squirrel for their dinner. Or his patience when teaching Beth to shoot.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The problem with reading someone’s private thoughts, was that now Rick found that he couldn’t _stop_ thinking about them. Forget about making eye contact with Carol; that was for damn sure not gonna happen in the near future.  Ever. Neverever. In fact, Rick had forgotten the color of Carol’s eyes on account of he would never look at them again.

 

It was stupid to keep thinking about it.  It was just a fantasy. Daryl didn’t _really_ think about him like that after all. And Rick was straight! He was _so_ straight. Rick was so straight that rulers were jealous. He was so straight that _meter stick_ s cried with envy. S-T-R-A-I-G-H-T. Yep. That was him.

 

It didn’t make him gay to stare at Daryl’s hands as he worked on his motorcycle, watching how completely competent he was, how he didn’t waste any movements. It didn’t make him gay to kind of obsessively watch the tiny beads of sweat that would trickle down Daryl’s neck, even in the cooler winter air. It totally didn’t matter that Rick wanted to lick them; wanted to suck them off of Daryl’s skin.

 

And it definitely didn’t make him gay to imagine those same strong fingers wrapped around his dick, or sliding into Rick’s ass, stretching him wider and wider until he could almost taste...

 

Rick huffed a frustrated breath and adjusted his half-hard dick in his jeans. Straight guys did that. Straight guys did that probably all the time, right? It was completely normal.

 

“Hey you ready to go?”

 

Rick jumped, turning around from where he ... some would say _lurked_ but Rick preferred the term _observed_... around the corner from where Daryl was working.  Glenn gave him a weird look, and Rick immediately attempted to stop acting like a complete and utter jackass. Of course him realizing that he was, in fact, acting like a complete and utter jackass just made him more aware of the fact.

 

“Sure am. It’s been awhile since just you and me went out.”

 

Glenn snorted. “Yeah. Hopefully no tanks or rooftops, okay? I barely saved your ass the last time.”  

 

Rick might have winced at the word ‘ass’, but that was his business.  

 

They made their way to the gates, and nodded at Carl and Beth as they opened the gates for them. Glenn tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, humming a little under his breath as he drove them down the lane of the prison and west, looking for a town to loot.

 

“So why’d you want to come with, Rick? Didn’t think you’d be all that interested, really. You’ve been super busy for awhile.”

 

Rick shrugged with one shoulder. There wasn’t a nice way of saying ‘if I don’t get the fuck out of this prison I’m gonna storm into Carol’s bunk and steal her weird porn diary and read it until I jerk off so much that my dick falls off’, and Rick’s mama had taught him that if he didn’t have anything nice to say, then he shouldn’t say anything at all, so he grunted.

 

Glenn nodded, steering around a wreck that someone had left in the middle of the road.  There were two walkers kind of moping around in the way that walkers tended to do, and Rick stared blankly out the window as they sped by.  This was a terrible idea. He was just going to waste his time here, like a moron.

 

They drove for almost an hour, stopping once to siphon gas from a few stalled vehicles on the way.  Gasoline was one of the staples that Hershel said they’d need to start stockpiling, especially if they wanted to continue to have hot showers through the rest of the winter months.

 

“Uh, Rick? Can I ask you something?”

 

Rick froze. He froze so hard that he was pretty sure some of his curls straightened out, like in the cartoons. Well, not that he’d seen any cartoons in awhile, but you didn't forget a thing like that.

 

“Do you think that people can change who they are?”

 

Rick gave him side-eye, trying to use his finely honed investigative skills to determine whether or not Glenn was making fun of him. Had he read what Carol wrote? Oh, holy friggin hell,  did they have _reading parties_ when he was on watch?  Was there a _book club?_ _Did everyone know??_

 

Rick realized he was hyperventilating only when he caught sight of his faintly blue face in the mirror. As casually as he could, he turned to Glenn, who was not at all fooled by his bullshit.

 

“Uh... Rick?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Are you... sure you’re okay? You’ve been actin’ weird.”

 

“Weird? Me? Ha. Haha. No, I’m just fine Glenn. Maybe a bit thirsty. We got any water?” Rick congratulated himself on his misdirection, then drank half of the bottle while he tried to think of something to say that wasn’t going to tip Glenn off to his impending sexual-identity crisis.  Eventually, he remembered that Glenn had asked him a question, and responded.  “Change who they are... how?”

 

“Well, Maggie. She’s never dated a Korean dude before. I mean, all her boyfriends have been white guys, mostly farmers, mostly who have never been to the big city.  And now... I guess... I just kind of feel like she’s stuck with me. Like she’s.... making due?”

 

Rick blinked, then cocked his head, thinking over what Glenn was saying.  He took a few minutes to get his thoughts in order before he spoke, pleased that Glenn felt that he could come to Rick with something that important. 

 

“Glenn, I say this with nothin’ but respect, man, but are you fucking _nuts_?”

 

Glenn’s mouth dropped open. He stopped the car in the middle of the road. Rick waited patiently, trying not to have his look of ‘come on, _seriously_?’  be too obvious.

 

“Look, Maggie is a smart, independent woman, right?”

 

Glenn, still looking faintly wounded, nodded.

 

“And she can make her own decisions, right?”

 

“That’s for darn sure,” Glenn muttered.

 

“So what makes you think that one of those decisions isn’t that you’re perfect for her?”

 

Glenn opened his mouth, then closed it.  He opened it again, and closed it once more, then put the car into drive and continued on their way. Rick sighed, in the slightly smug, satisfied way that solving someone else's problems always seemed to do.  

 

Of course, it didn't occur to him until much later that maybe he should take his own damn advice.

 

 

* * *

 

 **TBC!**  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get a chapter up! They should be coming much more quickly now. :D Thank you for reading!

Rick kinda knew that opening his eyes was a bad idea before he did it.  But, he was a stubborn bastard, and he wanted to see who was yelling at him.

 

His brain told him he should recognize this person, and he knew it was there... somewhere in his head... but it just seemed like way too much effort to chase the name down.

 

“Open up! Open the damn gates!” The person’s voice cracked on the last word. He sounded about out of his mind with worry. There was a clanging sound, and Rick’s stomach lurched again at the feeling of the movement under him. Instinct had him reaching for his stomach, but that caused such a bright, agonizing burst of pain that Rick cried out.

 

There was a screech of tires, and another lurch, and more voices, falling over each other into a confusing babble.

 

“Dad?”

 

“What the _fuck_  happened, Glenn?”

 

“Go! Go tell Hershel to get his stuff ready!”

 

It was too much. Rick tried to keep his eyes open, really he did.  Something told him that it was gonna be a bad idea to close them, but it was just easier.

 

So he did.

 

***

 

He was hot.

 

God, he was so hot.  Rick twitched, wheezing a little as he tried to swim up out of sleep. It didn’t quite work the way he wanted it to.  He recognized this feeling.  It was the same way he’d felt when he woke up from his coma, and for a second the absolute heart-stopping _certainty_ that this was all a dream was so real that it made his heart freeze for a second in his chest.

 

But no.

 

This wasn’t some fairy tale, and real life didn’t work that way.  Rick heard the faint whisper of conversation, and strained to hear.  His body still wouldn’t cooperate- he couldn’t see, and he couldn’t seem to make a sound yet- but he could damn sure listen.

 

“Daryl.”

 

Hershel, sounded exhausted, and pained, as though saying Daryl’s name was some kind of self-inflicted punishment.

 

“Naw. Don’t patronize me, man.  I _know_ what a fuckin’ fever means.”

 

“Yes. We all do, but the fever could be from the wounds he got. Glenn said he fell through the window, onto a stack of pallets. The walker was on top of him, yes, but  I saw no evidence of a bite.”

 

Rick’s heart rate spiked. He was pretty sure he pissed himself, but was unable to check. Memories came flooding back, and Rick remembered the split second of ‘Oh Shit!’ before he fell the two stories, the walker’s snapping jaws inches from his face, glass from the window falling like rain around him.

 

“Daryl- you’ve been here non-stop since Glenn brought him back to us. You need food. Rest. A shower. Take a few-”

 

“No. I ain’t leavin’ him. He wouldn’t leave any one of us, and you know it.”

 

Hershel sighed, and Rick heard the _tha-thump_ of his crutches as he walked away.  There was a muttered curse and a sigh, and Rick managed calm his heart rate.  He could tell that he was alone in the small cell, and tentatively tried to sit up to look around.

 

The punch of pain caused him to flinch, and since he couldn’t see, Rick knew he was in _real_ trouble when his hand didn’t come down onto the bunk like he’d anticipated, and he overbalanced.  Everything tilted as he collapsed onto the concrete floor.  He heard himself make a terrible sound: a desperately-wounded animal in mortal pain, and then knew nothing as the wave of pain crested and he slipped unconscious once again.

 

****

Gardenias.

 

 _Gardenias_?

 

Rick wrinkled his nose, then attempted to open his eyes.  He felt ... numb. Fuzzy, like his head had been wrapped in cotton. It allowed him to realize several things:

 

The first was that he wasn’t in as much pain as he should have been, so whatever drugs they’d found had been really, really good ones. Rick approved wholeheartedly of this.

 

Two, he couldn’t see because there was something wrapped around his eyes.

 

And three, Someone’s head was pillowed against his hip, on the bed. They were sleeping, and snoring softly enough that the air from their lips brushed softly against Rick’s fingers.  The strong smell of flowers reminded Rick of the garden that Lori had been adamant about keeping and for a second he could see a baby Carl playing on his blanket, batting at the butterflies that had investigated the strange new visitor among the roses and lavender.

 

The snore snuffled off, and Rick realized that he had unconsciously began raking his fingers through the still-damp hair as he thought, lost in his memories. He’d obviously woken whoever-it-was up. Rick pulled his hand back.

 

“You’re awake.”

 

Oh. Daryl. Somehow the realization that it had been _Daryl_ that had fallen asleep with his head pillowed on the mattress, touching Rick’s body made Rick feel decidedly weird. Daryl could go for days without sleeping if he had to, but when he crashed, he did hard.

 

“Is that your shampoo? Flow’rs?”  Rick’s voice was a growling gasp, and he heard Daryl fumbling for something besides him.  A water bottle touched his lips and Rick drank, gratefully, but slowly.

 

“Not too fast now. Don’t wanna choke.”

 

Rick felt the heat of Daryl’s hand as it cupped the back of his head, tilting him up enough so he could drink without spilling any. There was something.... something he felt he should remember about this, but was too tired to figure it out.

 

Rick brushed his fingers against the bandages on his face.

 

“I’ll get Hershel. He’ll wanna know you’re up.”

 

Rick felt an instant of panic. He fumbled blindly at where he thought Daryl’s face would be- hands skittering over Daryl’s face and hair.

 

“Easy. Easy, Rick. I’m just goin’ for a second. I’ll be back.”

 

Rick felt the slight burning of humiliation and made himself let go.  He felt Daryl’s awkward pat on his shoulder, and the drift of air from where he left Rick’s bunk.

 

Rick waited, licking at his dry lips.  There was the murmur of voices, then a crash and Carl’s higher-pitched, “Dad!” before skinny arms wrapped themselves gingerly around his waist.

 

“Hey, kiddo.” Talking was still difficult, and Rick really wished he could get some more water.

 

Carl’s arms tightened briefly, and Rick wished that he could see him.  In fact the fact that he still couldn't see was starting to bother him just a bit.  Rick felt Hershel’s hand on his forehead and just that simple touch calmed the panic that had been building since Daryl left.

 

“Okay Rick.  Glenn brought you back, cut up pretty bad.  You took a piece of glass to the temple, and one to the forehead, near your eye, and part of the cut was on your eyelid,  so I binded your eyes to keep any infection away.  Your sight wasn’t hurt, and it’s only temporary.”

 

Rick felt ten pounds lighter as he relaxed into the mattress.

 

“Judith and Carl and all of us are just fine, and you’ve been fighting a fever for little under a week.”

 

Oh.  Well, that explained why he felt weaker than a newborn kitten then.

 

“Now the bad news is that you took some cuts to the gut.  Had to do some surgery, so you’re gonna have some more scars.  It went well, though, and I’m pleased with your progress.”  Hershel tapped his fingers against Rick’s forehead, and Rick felt absurdly pleased, as though he’d gotten a good grade on a test, or received an unexpected compliment from a stranger.

 

“Now, here’s what’s gonna happen. Carol’s been cooking up some dinner.  Glenn and Maggie finished the run you two went on- came back with half the darn store, and we’ve been waiting for you to get around to joinin’ us to have ourselves a bit of a celebration.  You’re gonna take a nap, and recuperate some, then I want you up and out of that bed. Now. Don’t be alarmed if you’re a bit sleepier than usual.  We used a good bit of the meds we found at that vet’s office a few weeks back. Horse tranquilizers work quite well on skinny sheriffs, but the offset is that you sleep like the...” Hershel coughed and Rick could tell he was grinning. “Dead.”

 

Rick nodded, not bothering to hide his smile.  It would take a brave man to argue with Hershel when he told them to do something for their health, and Rick was just not that brave.

 

“Can you take these off?” Rick waved his hand in the general vicinity of his face.

 

“Not just yet. Give it a coupla more days. Now rest up, like I said. Daryl, I need your help with somethin’.”

 

The activity had caused Rick’s body to feel heavy and sluggish with sleep, and he didn’t even have time to thank any of them before he started to nod off.  

 

He could have sworn that he only slept for a minute, but when he woke up, his body felt strange, like he’d slept for too long.  Rick yawned. His shoulder tingled as though he’d been awakened by someone shaking him.

 

“Hey there.”

 

Rick turned his head towards Carol’s voice.  “Hey.” He smiled a bit sleepily and tried to yawn without opening his mouth.

 

“You scared all of us, you know.”

 

Rick did know. He hadn’t done it on purpose, but it had been stupid of him to take a chance like that. There was a squeak of a chair, and the scrape of something against concrete, and Carol’s voice was much closer than it had been before, her voice just above a whisper.

 

“Now you and me, we have some unfinished business, and I gotta talk quickly before that stuff Hershel gave you sucks you back under.”

 

If they could have, Rick’s eyes would have widened in sudden terror.  Her words brought it all back in a seizure-inducing wave of embarrassment- the notebook, the porny stuff about him and Daryl, his reaction, all of it.

 

Carol’s fingers were cold as they pressed against his lips. “Now, I know you’re not one that normally goes into other people’s business like that, so I’m willing to overlook it. I know you read it, and oh I was mad for awhile, and humiliated, and kind of hurt that you would do that to me. Shake your head if you understand.”

 

Rick nodded his head.  He’d known it was a shitty thing to do- to invade Carol’s privacy like that, especially since they all had so little- when it had happened. He hadn’t _meant_ to the first time, but the second? He’d done it fully knowing what he was doing.

 

“But one thing I’m _not_ okay with is you taking my property, so I think it’s time for me to speed this thing along.”

_Wait, what? Take-?_

Carol’s fingers pressed against his lips again, keeping him from asking what the hell she was talking about.  Rick heard her crinkle some paper. “Now, I hope you don’t mind me sticking my nose in, but it’s clear that you two idiots need a little help here. I woke you up before the meds ran their course. So I bet you’re already feeling it, right?”

 

Adrenaline or no- Rick was.  He was absolutely _exhausted_. Sleep was just out of his reach, but brushing the tips of his fingers.

 

“Well, a little birdy is going to tell Daryl that you need him. He’ll come running, of course... and when he gets here... well. Imagine his surprise at finding this?” She crinkled the paper again and Rick felt certain that she kissed his forehead. “Imagine him being curious, and finding it, and reading this with you asleep in front of him.”

 

Rick felt his mouth fall open in shock.

 

“This is for your own good, Rick. And for Daryl’s. And, if I don’t get my notebook back pretty damn soon, Daryl’s gonna find all _sorts_ of interesting reading material in his bed at night.”

 

Rick could almost _hear_ her smile sweetly.

 

Rick tried to say her name, to stop her, but Carol had already pushed back the chair and left.  Before he could protest, or explain that he didn’t know what on earth she was talking about- if someone had taken her Notebook of Porn it sure as hell hadn’t been _him_ \- he felt the meds start to kick in again, dragging him towards unconsciousness.

  


 

**TBC!**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for commenting and the concrit, either here or on [tumblr](http://1lostone.tumblr.com/)!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I think this is the shortest chapter I've ever written.... but yeah. You'll see why. Images are embedded; please tell me if they're not working! 
> 
> Thank you so much for the comments! Your reactions are so much fun to read!!

The problem with waking up so groggy was that it took Rick awhile for his brain to come back online. Prior to all this, he’d tried to kick his caffeine habit for years. Figures that it would take an apocalyptic clusterfuck of this nature for him to be able to function without his customary pot of coffee before he got to the station, but for that first few minutes of waking up, his brain still clung to sleep. Unless something was trying to sneak up on him. _Then_ his ass was up and wide awake, searching for the danger.

 

Rick yawned so hard his jaw popped.  He could see that someone had left a water bottle in his reach, and Rick grabbed it, drinking gratefully. Whatever had been covering his eyes was gone. His left eyelid  throbbed faintly from where the cut of the window’s glass had gotten him a good one, but it hadn’t harmed his eye. He stretched cautiously and took stock of his injuries.  His stomach was sore as hell. His wrist twanged with a sprain, and there was something real damn unpleasant going on with his ankle, but he wasn’t dead and that was always a plus.

 

Rick had swung his legs off the bed before the crumbled up piece of paper on the floor really registered.  

 

Seeing that brought everything back.

 

Rick whipped his head around, looking for either Carol or Daryl, going so far as to peek up over the top bunk to make sure neither one of them were hiding there.  Daryl ... that was. Okay. Rick didn’t know quite what to do with that. With the sudden clarity of a brain not swimming in drugs, Rick realized that he could have .... potentially... acted a _little_ ridiculous at the idea of him and Daryl... together.

 

Maybe.

 

Yeah, it was embarrassing that Carol apparently fantasized about the two of them- and based on the amount of writing in that notebook she fantasized a _lot_ \- but there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot to do around here these days, so Rick could understand why. It still kind of gave him the heebie jeebies that Carol evidently had a jones for his dick, but. Whatever. It was done, and Rick was hardly able to judge given the thoughts that had been going on his his head about Daryl. 

 

The only difference between him and Carol was that he hadn’t written them down.

 

Rick frowned, and bent a little awkwardly, picking up the piece of paper. He took a quick glance around his cell, listening.  The main living area was silent, which meant everyone was asleep or outside. Given that it was sunny, Rick figured that they were all outside, and knew he should join them. But first, he uncrinkled the paper and read over it once, then once again, his mouth falling open a little in shock.

 

_That._

 

Holy _shit._ If Rick could have had any wish and have it happen just like he imagined, it would be like that- where Daryl softly begged him not to go. Not to leave him alone. Just the idea of it made the back of Rick’s throat tighten, and he sagged back onto the mattress with a little huff of shocked breath, so shocked that the spring in the mattress that usually poked him in the ass cheek didn't even register. 

 

It was so hard to remember that this wasn’t real... that Carol had written this because she wanted it to happen, not recorded something that had _actually_ happened.  But god, did he want it to be true. Rick folded the small scrap of paper and stuck it under his pillow, determinedly not thinking of how he'd feel if it was Daryl stretched out unconscious on a mattress, and Rick was left to the side, helpless. As he absently fluffed the pillow back into a shape that didn’t look like his head had been permanently implanted on its surface, Rick caught sight of another scrap of paper.

 

He didn’t even feel ashamed at how quickly he grabbed it.

 

Rick’s eyes widened. He actually turned the scrap over, looking for the rest of the story before something ... occurred to him. He turned the paper back over, and frowned down at it, reading over its purple- inked contents once more.

 

 

_Wait a second...._

 

Rick reached under his pillow and looked back at the first scrap of paper, quickly reading over its contents.

 

 

He looked back at the purple page, then again at the black, a sick, squirmy feeling of shocked confusion balling in his gut. But side-by-side like this, there was no mistake.

 

_The handwriting wasn’t the same!_

 

 

 

* * *

* * *

**Image 1:**

“Okay, enough is enough. I ain’t one to beg, but.” Daryl’s voice broke off, as though he couldn’t continue. “When you looked at me, all I could think of was, ‘this is it.’” Daryl’s voice was a low, exhausted growl. “I... I didn’t know what to do, Rick. What to do if you got bit.”  His voice cracked slightly, and Daryl pressed his face against the clean sheets of the mattress, as though he could force the memory away if he pressed hard enough.

  
“Please, man.” He paused, whispering. “Please wake up. For me.”

 

**Image 2:**

“Daryl, I’m not quite sure how to tell you this.”

 

Daryl looked up at Rick from under his bangs. He looked faintly frustrated at RIck’s insistence at interrupting his ritual of cleaning his bow, maintaining the wire and making sure nothing had gotten on the handle. His face cleared, and his eyes relaxed into the smile only Rick saw.  “Tell me what?”

 

Rick took a step closer. Almost too close. Had it been anyone else, Daryl would have flinched back, moving so his personal space wasn’t crowded. From this distance, Rick’s eyes were warm with something Daryl couldn’t quite put a name to, but it made his heartrate accelerate in his chest.

 

 

**Image 3:**

Rick took a step closer. Almost too close. Had it been anyone else, Daryl would have flinched back, moving so his personal space wasn’t crowded. From this distance, Rick’s eyes were warm with something Daryl couldn’t quite put a name to, but it made his heartrate accelerate in his chest.

 

**Image 4:**

“Okay, enough is enough. I ain’t one to beg, but.” Daryl’s voice broke off, as though he couldn’t continue. “When you looked at me, all I could think of was, ‘this is it.’” Daryl’s voice was a low, exhausted growl. “I... I didn’t know what to do, Rick. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TBC!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art at the bottom (with permission) by the AMAZINGLY TALENTED lucife56 and her "Fanart TWD" Series.

Rick sat there, breathing heavily for just a moment, before he sprung up out of his bunk so quickly that he knocked his already sore head on the metal frame.

 

He looked around for his clothes and his gunbelt and made an executive decision that if he didn’t get the fuck out of this prison and think things through, he was probably going to have a heart attack the next time Daryl asked him to pass the oatmeal, and none of this would matter anyway.  In the middle of pulling up his jeans, Rick had a thought. No- maybe he _didn’t_ know who was writing this, but he could very easily find out.  

 

Carl was right out.  He knew his son’s handwriting, and frankly even the _idea_ of that made Rick want to punch himself in the face. Ditto Judith. She was obviously the most intelligent child in recent history, but not even _she_ could write at five months. See? Logic. Rick was all over this shit. Rick was a logic _master_ all up in this prison like Spock on the motherfucking _Enterprise._  That only left: Carol, Daryl, Glenn, Maggie, Bethie, Hershel, Michonne, T-Dogg, and Axel.

 

Rick’s shoulders slumped.  At first, he’d been pretty clear that Carol had been writing all of it, only if her stuff had come up missing, _and_ Rick had evidence of someone else writing the same porny stuff of doom, then well... was he entirely certain that Carol had originally written it?

 

Rick bit his lip, thinking back.  No... she’d been _real_ damn clear about how she felt on that issue. The notebook had definitely been hers.  Well, fine. That still left eight people. Unless the walkers did it, which Rick wasn’t _entirely_ ready to write off. Okay no. The walkers didn’t do it.

 

That would just be weird.

 

Rick pinched the top of his nose, between his eyes and forced himself to calm down. He was doing the panicking thing again, and he needed to go back to logical, ordered thinking before he gave himself an ulcer.

 

Okay first thing first- get an example of everyone’s handwriting. Then he could compare to the two samples he had, and call it a day. Easy as pie.  It was almost like he’d been trained in the actual investigative process. Rick rolled his eyes at his own stupidity.

 

Okay, so ... paper. And pens. Hmmm. Maybe he could figure all this out with a family meeting. They hadn’t had one in awhile, and ....

 

... an idea began to form in Rick’s mind. It was easy enough to put together. All he had to do was remain calm.

 

Yep. Calm. Simple.

 

****

Rick looked around at everyone staring at him. It had taken about a week to manage to get everything organized so that Carol was on watch duty, and everyone else was awake and in the main area.  As was their custom, whenever there was a ‘family night’, Carl busted out a game- Monopoly was usually popular- and they cooked up something special.  Given how hungry they had all been in their trek here to the prison, it stood to reason that ‘something special’ that any of them would have turned up their noses at in the old days was a veritable feast.  

 

Today was no different.  The weather had been rainy and the temperature had dropped enough that all of them tended to wear light jackets or hoodies, whatever they could scrounge up.  The problem with all of this going down in the summer was that it was harder than hell to find winter clothing without going through people’s belongings in their houses, and that still made Rick feel kind of like a thief... even though he knew that they wouldn’t be using it anymore.  

 

Daryl had shot three rabbits, and they’d put it together with some canned and freeze-dried veggies. Carol had added in some barley, garlic, and onions and after a day of it bubbling over the stove, all of them kept shooting it little drooly glances.  Maggie had produced the ingredients for cornbread practically out of thin air, and all of them were looking forward to staying inside.

 

Rick had found a notebook and box of pencils and had his own plans for this evening.  A week’s time had given him plenty of fodder to think on.  It helped (or hurt-depending on how he looked at it) that no one had ran to his bunk confessing their undying need to write about him and Daryl. No one had given him any odd glances, and no one was acting any differently.  Actually, okay that kind of sucked.  When Rick had read it, it had seemed very obvious that shit was at a critical level. But, when no one acted any differently towards him, it really brought home the sad fact that maybe this _wasn't_ a big deal. Maybe Rick _was_ blowing it all out or proportion.   
  
"What's on for tonight?"   
  
Daryl's voice made Rick jump. He'd been staring at the notebook paper for so long that he hadn't heard the other man come up behind him.   
  
Rick may or may not have squeaked... In a manly way.   
  
Daryl's lips twitched.   
  
"Rabbit stew I think." Rick finally managed to answer.   
  
"What about after?" Daryl's drawl was impossible. Rick didn't think he had ever noticed how rich his baritone was before.  And was he imagining the way Daryl leaned just slightly closer? Maybe lowered his voice a tiny bit?  
  
Surely he was.  
  
"Ah. After?"  
  
"Mhm. We playin' Monopoly? Or are we gonna try ... something different?"  
  
Rick blinked at him.   
  
"Uh. I uh. I invented something a little new. Creative. Gonna be fun." Rick forced a smile that felt like glass breaking. His head was doing him in. If Rick kept this up Daryl was going to think Rick needed some serious meds.   
  
“Alright then. Sounds interesting.”

 

Maggie started dishing up the bowls of food, and Rick made his way over to it, following his nose and his growling stomach.  Dinner went about as planned, with Glenn running some food up to Carol. It probably would be good for the extra three hours or so until it was time to switch watches, but why chance it?

 

They ate, and talked, and for awhile Rick could forget both his little mystery and the weirdness he felt knowing that someone here... maybe _two_ someones, fantasised about his dick.  

 

“Dad, can we get the game out?”

 

“Actually, Carl, I had a new idea. Do y’mind handing this out for me?”  Rick smiled at his people, making a mental note that Axel and T-Dogg both looked askance at one another. “Pencils too.”

 

Carl did, and everyone looked expectantly at Rick.

 

“Okay, for ten minutes, all I want you to do is write. Oh, wait. Put your name on your paper so we can figure out who said what, but you’re gonna think of something you wish.... you could change. Something you want to do. Maybe something that you wish you could have. Don’t matter, really. Just write about it for ten full minutes. Ready?” Rick looked around at his people, all of whom expressed varying degrees of curiosity, or in Carl’s case... boredom.

 

“This sounds like a dumb game,” he muttered under his breath.

 

Rick ignored him with the selective hearing mastered by all parents, everywhere, and  started writing. Then... he blinked and suddenly he was somewhere else, _seeing_ something else. He’d always done little sketches here and there, but nothing... nothing major. Certainly nothing he’d ever show anyone. But now? he felt like it was ... time. Maybe time to see what happened. He bit his lip and stole a glance at his watch.

 

Ten minutes had never gone so slowly. _Glaciers_ had melted and reformed in the time it took everyone to finish writing, fold their sheets of paper, and stick it into Rick’s old sheriff's hat.

 

The first one was just Carl writing- ‘this is stupid dad’ over and over and over. It would have been a lot funnier if Rick hadn’t been so anxious.

 

Axel wrote how much he wished he could have said goodbye to his mom.

 

T-Dogg wrote about Dale.

 

Beth wrote about how much she loved her family.

 

Hershel wrote a bunch of wickedly funny limericks.

 

Glenn wrote what seemed to be a stream of consciousness that touched on everything from death to some kid named Clementine he met a few months back, to how much he really wished Maggie would marry him, but who would marry them?     
  


Michonne wrote about how much she wanted to rip the Governor’s head off and do very unpleasant things to the rest of his body. Come to think of it, she wasn’t too fond of Merle DIxon, either.

 

One person wrote something on a their paper that made Rick’s breath catch.

Daryl. 

 

Oh god... it _was_ Daryl.

 

Rick wasn’t the type of person to ignore that sort of thing. He closed his eyes for just a second, then opened them, meeting Daryl’s steady blue gaze.  Daryl gave the tiniest nod, and Rick felt his heart leap into his chest.  If this had been a Disney movie, some small, adorable woodland creature would be singing right now.

 

But this wasn’t a Disney movie, mostly because if there were any some, adorable woodland creatures around, they’d probably be shot, skinned, and cooked for tomorrow night’s supper.

  
Rick stood up, trying not to act like he was feeling, which was much too much like a thirteen-year old girl whose crush had just acknowledged her existence for comfort.  Rick held out his own folded sheet of paper, then lost whatever nerve he possessed, thrusting it awkwardly at Daryl and leaving before Daryl unfolded it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GO HERE TO GIVE LOVE TO   
> [lucife56](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lucife56/pseuds/lucife56)  
> [ HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4285650/chapters/11575522) !!!!!


	6. Chapter 6

Rick wasn’t a proud man.  He tried to be a good person, but he was also not unwilling to act should a situation present itself.  He didn’t like to think of himself as a coward either, but the honest truth was that he had scurried away from Daryl and the ramifications of the picture Rick had sketched  like a roach scurrying away from the light.

 

It had taken guts for Daryl to write that (and Rick may or may not have read it over no less than twelve times before he finally succumbed to a fitful sleep) and Rick had just ran away. Pathetic.  That’s not how he was; not like he wanted to be with Daryl.  If they were going to try to build something, then Rick would have to ... would have to just stop.

 

Rick cocked his head, listening. Shift change had already happened.  Maggie would be on watch, which meant that Glenn was probably with her.  Everyone was very careful about not interrupting either of the two of them on watch. Not after the eyeful poor Beth got last time.  Her scream had sent them all running, weapons at the ready. When Maggie and Glenn had slunk out of the guard tower, Rick didn’t think that Hershel was ever going to quite grinning. Oh when the two of them looked at him, it was all ‘disapproving father.’ When anyone else caught his eye, it was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud.

 

Rick didn’t think he’d need his gun. Not for this. Whatever the appropriate action was for eating crow, hopefully a gun wouldn’t be involved.  Maybe a knife and fork, but Rick was willing to do whatever he had to to apologize. To make this right.

 

He shivered a little when thunder growled through the night sky, lightning strobing through the barred windows. It twisted the familiar shapes  of their chairs and cabinets into the monstrous. Rick was glad of the socks on his feet.  It kept them warm and it kept him silent as he made his way into Daryl’s wing. When they’d all picked cells, Daryl had refused to be in an actual enclosed space. Even with the doors that locked, it made him feel like everything was too contained. Rick knew that he slept on one of the balconies, with the only nod to privacy being the fact that he wasn’t in the same part of the block as the rest of them.

 

Rick was almost silent as he made his way up the steps.  The rain swished against the metal roof, and served as a counterpoint to his rapidly beating heart.  He thought briefly of the inmates who would have only known which season it was by how it sounded on the roof and frowned.

 

“Daryl?” Rick’s whisper was barely there; just another night sound that could be explained away by the weather.

 

Rick didn’t hear anything, so he timed walking up the last few steps with a strike of lightning.  His eyebrows creased in confusion.  Daryl must be outside for some reason. In the rain? That wasn’t normal for him. Usually he was where he said he was going to be.

 

“You didn’t really think he’d be here, waiting for you did you?”

 

Rick jumped, whirling and reaching for a gun that wasn’t there before it registered that Carol was on the steps below him. He clutched his chest, trying to remember how to breathe.

 

“ _Jesus_ , Carol. You scared the hell out of me.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

Rick thought that she actually sounded the opposite of sorry, but she also looked pissed off enough that he wasn’t going to mention it.  He looked around at the little nest that Daryl had made for himself, peeking around the blankets like Daryl would be there, just hiding.

 

Carol walked up two steps then turned, sitting so that her back was halfway turned towards the railing. Rick didn’t miss the fact that this _also_ kept him from leaving without either hopping over Carol’s legs or jumping off the second floor.  Rick sank down cautiously onto the metal stairway and looked at Carol.

 

“Is that a yes or a no?”

 

Rick thought about the last thing that she’d asked and nodded.  

 

“Hmm.  That confident, are you?” Carol sighed.  “Look, Rick, I’m not trying to chastise you or anything- but you gotta realize what you’ve done here.”

 

Rick rubbed his hands over his face, gently so as to not aggravate his healing wounds, but still enough to show his frustration. He blew out a breath.  “That’s it though!  This whole past two weeks have been confusing as fuck.”  He sounded like he was whining. Rick _knew_ he was whining, but he didn’t care. “I found that book, and then all of the sudden, I’m thinkin’ that this is a possibility. That it was something that could actually happen-- no. Something that _should_ actually happen.”

 

Carol looked vaguely flattered. “You liked it that much, huh?”

 

Rick nodded, shrugging. “Well, yeah. Not the sex, or whatever. That was... uh. Why do you think about stuff like that?”

 

Carol snorted.  “I guess you’ve never seen your ass in a pair of jeans, Rick.  Let’s just say I’m not the only one to notice. But I think you’re sort of missing the point, here.  After all of that- after you acting weird, and you getting hurt, then figuring out that Daryl was writing it-  after all that, you just... left him.”

 

Rick’s mouth fell open.

 

“And now you’re here like you just expect him to be there, waiting for you.”

 

“No- no that’s not what---”

 

Carol stood up. “If it isn’t, then I think that’s a good place to start. ‘Cuz I don’t know what he’s thinking- he hasn’t talked to me about this stuff since I told him you found my journal- but you can bet it’s not something good if he just took off like that.”

 

Rick frowned. It wasn’t like he needed her to tell him that.  Only-- maybe he did. He frowned harder.  “Did you figure out who took your book?”

 

It was Carol’s turn to avoid eye contact.  “Uh.”

 

Rick stood up and reached out his hand to help pull her to her feet.  He wasn’t going anywhere tonight. With Daryl’s tracking ability, Rick knew that he’d never find him in the woods around the prison. Not unless Daryl wanted to be found.  

 

“I uh, oh hell. You’re gonna find out anyway. I might have exaggerated the... theft... of my journal just slightly.”

 

Rick raised an eyebrow. “Slightly, huh?”

 

Carol smiled sweetly. “Mostly I needed an excuse to help the two of you get your heads outta your asses.”

 

Rick took one more look at Daryl’s sleeping area, his heart giving a funny sort of wiggle when he saw his drawing lying on the upside-down milk crate that served as a nightstand. The candle was unlit, but the picture was folded against it, as though waiting for a frame.

 

Surely....

 

Surely he couldn’t have fucked all this up that badly, could he?

 

Carol made her way back to her bunk, and Rick turned left to look out into the wet night.  they didn’t lock the entrance to the prison, letting the walkers outside serve as a particularly nasty security system.  That worked for awhile, but Rick easily saw the day coming when they’d have to be really careful to stay ahead of it.  Right now, the sound they made didn’t draw too many of them.  But a few months from now, who knew? The dead could bring down the fences if there were enough of them.

 

Somewhere out there, Daryl was alone, as he was always alone. Instead of thinking of Rick as his friend, he might think that Rick hated him, or be sick of him changing his mind. He could be mad; legitimately angry at the completely ridiculous way Rick had handled himself.

 

Rick sighed.  Either he was mad, or he was hurt, or he was ambivalent and just decided to check the traps really early.  He’d find out tomorrow, Rick supposed.

 

The winter storm that had blown in was significant enough that if they were even a bit further north, there’d be snow and hail mixed in with the rain.  Rick shivered, watching the lightning become more and more muted as the storm rolled away, growling softly to itself in the darkness of the night.

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Rick was pretty sure that God was trying to tell him something.

 

He wasn’t dumb. He had first clued in when, while in a nearby town searching for supplies, he found only a tiny medical kit. Someone had taken the peroxide and the bandages, and left an eye cup, a tongue depressor, and some medical grade lubricant. The entire town. Picked clean, like a fried turkey on superbowl sunday.  Some ancient fliers announced that there was a city-wide evacuation order, but that didn’t explain why most of the usable stuff in the houses was just completely gone, like a team of movers just up and packed everything into neat little boxes.

 

The only reason that Rick had found the medical kit was that it was in a duffel bag that was under a dead soldier with a red cross on his sleeve.

 

Then it had started raining.

 

Wet boots sucked.  Wet jeans sucked more. To add insult to injury, the must have been a small hole in the leather of his sole, because every time Rick walked his foot made a _squelch_  sound of wet sock.  From inside the prison, the rain had been calming, almost hypnotic as he’d watched the violence from the storm from his relatively safe and sheltered existence.

 

The rain wouldn’t have been so bad, aside from the fact that the car Rick had used to get to the town had broken down.

 

The broken-down car wouldn't have mattered, except when it _did_ finally die, the engine backfired so loudly that every walker in three miles decided that they should wander on over to investigate.  The engine was making a frankly troubling-sounding high-pitched glugging yowl. Rick couldn't even back up and swing the sad little car away from the fifteen or so walkers surrounding him: as added insult to injury, his back left tire was stuck in the wet Georgia clay, causing the vehicle to tilt slightly.

 

Which explained why Rick was now trapped in a 1988 Toyota Tercel, staring at the walkers beating on the windshield with a spring from the seat digging uncomfortably into his ass, regretting most of his recent life decisions.

 

“Well, shit.” Rick sighed, staring at the blood and saliva from one of the walkers (a former waitress who still bore the gunshot wound that hadn’t quite killed her enough)  left on the top right- near where the sticker from ‘Bob’s Oil ‘n’ Lube’ helpfully informed Rick that his vehicle was 40,000 miles overdue for an oil change. The blood slid down the windshield, mixing with the rain.

 

Rick frowned, and turned on the windshield wipers.  They squeaked, then wiped feebly at the mess, like even they knew that there wasn’t much point. Rick knew he had a chance- if the walkers didn’t see him, and didn’t realize that he was there, maybe they’d go away.  It wasn’t much of a chance, but Rick had people who needed him, and it wasn’t like he could just throw in the towel.

 

Rick turned off the car, then twisted around in the seat. There wasn’t much there. An old, nasty blanket had been thrown over the backseat, probably to hide the deplorable state of its cushions. There was a bloody shoe in the backseat, and what looked like a can of Pringles.  Rick reached hopefully for the can, pleased when it rattled.  He popped the top and reached inside.

 

There were several chips still there.

 

... all of which were _painfully_ stale.  

 

Yep. God had it in for him alright.  

 

Maybe- if Rick threw the blanket over the back window it would block his line of sight.  He could use his own clothes for the other windows... but that left the windshi--

 

There was a familiar _thunk_ of a crossbow bolt. Rick jerked his head around so quickly he felt his neck pop in three places.

 

Another _thunk_.

 

And another.

 

Still, Rick didn’t believe his eyes (not to mention his luck) until Daryl slid into view, stabbing the former waitress in the head with his bowie knife.  Rick’s eyes met Daryl’s for a moment, before Daryl whirled, stabbing the last shambling walker in the head, and pushing him to the ground.

 

Daryl had managed to kill off at least ten walkers... all without getting a drop of goo on him.

 

Rick couldn’t even get his hand out of the Pringles can.

 

Rick sighed, then tried a half smile.  He raised his hand and watched as Daryl opened the door, still looking around for a threat that had been neatly eliminated.  Daryl took a step back and swung his crossbow back onto his back, taking its weight with a familiar grunt.

 

Rick stepped out of the car, wincing as the spring from the seat jabbed him once more in the ass in farewell, then flailed in place completely when Daryl grabbed him by his shirt and swung him into the hood of the car.

 

Daryl took a step forward, into Rick’s space.  Rick found that he was holding his breath, staring at Daryl’s eyes like you did when he was watching to see what a predator would do next.

 

“You scared of me?”

 

Rick shook his head mutely.  He was feeling an entire gambit of emotions- none of which was fear. He was in awe as he always was of Daryl’s understated strength, of the way he made things look effortless, while Rick found every day a struggle.

 

“You came after me.”

 

Rick nodded.

 

“You plannin’ on sayin’ anything?”

 

Rick could feel the heat of Daryl’s body contrasting sharply with the cool drench of rain. He found himself leaning forward, turning slightly so that there was only the barest breath of space between them.

 

The moment stretched like the thinnest piece of elastic, growing more and more tense with each passing heartbeat. Rick felt like he was fourteen again, and trying to gather enough nerve to ask Lori Haversham (the cute girl who sat next to him in biology) out on a date.

 

Instead of answering, Rick leaned forward, brushing his lips against the sting line of Daryl's jaw.  The sound Daryl made when he sharply sucked in his breath gave Rick a little more confidence. He traced the line of Daryl's jaw with his lips, then mustered what courage he had and turned Daryl's jaw gently, pressing their lips together.

 

Rick didn't notice the rain, or the punched-out sound Daryl made. He didn't hear his own bitten-off moan or the _thud_ of Daryl's crossbow knocking against the Tercel’s window when Daryl pressed his body into Rick’s, eliminating any hint of distance that might have been there.

 

Daryl’s mouth was hot, his tongue strong against Rick’s as they slid together. Rick felt Daryl’s fingers tangle in his curls, and when he tugged slightly, Rick’s knees collapsed just enough that he fell against the cold metal of the car, Daryl pushing forward so that their bodies stayed aligned.  

 

Eventually though, Rick remembered that breathing was sort of necessary (although in this instance he was willing to be talked out of it) and they pulled apart slowly, pressing their foreheads together. Rick didn’t want to pull away completely, and it seemed that Daryl didn’t either.  

 

Rick approved.  He couldn’t remember the last time that he had been kissed, or kissed anyone so thoroughly.  His skin felt too tight;  his heartbeat was probably visible under the sheer, threadbare, utterly-soaked cotton. Still, he managed to blurt what he wanted to say without being a damn coward about it.  “Come back home?”

 

Daryl pulled away, looking around a bit belatedly, as though making eye contact was too much for a second. Still, the small one-sided smile made Rick feel even better about his hastily-asked question.

 

“Thought you’d never ask.”

  
  


TBC!

  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

As soon as they started back towards the little town, Rick’s crappy day reasserted itself.  Rick’s head was still lost in their kiss, which was both dangerous and stupid.  Being lost in his head, not the kiss. The kiss was a lot of things, but stupid wasn’t one of them. Usually, he and Daryl had a long-perfected routine of  clearing a place before they just barged in.  The long road from Hershel’s farm to the prison had taught them to be careful, and vigilant. Always.

Unfortunately, Rick had never been kissed within an inch of his life quite like that before, and certainly never in the terrifying run towards the prison.  The only person he’d even possibly kiss like that had been his wife. He’d been too furious at Lori to even look at her, let alone kiss her.  

Rick had caught his breath and shut that thought down quickly.  No point. There was nothing good to be gained from going down _t_ _hat_ road.  

Maybe that was why he didn’t follow  their protocol.  Given the fact that two weeks ago- he’d gone through a window while being a dumbass, one would think that he would have been a tad bit more careful.

The convenience store had been pretty well cleaned out, but the rain had gotten so bad that it was just a constant sheet of misery, so the two of them had agreed to hole up for awhile on their way back to the prison.

The walker had almost materialized out of nowhere. One second Rick was grinning back over his shoulder at Daryl, and the next, Daryl was knocking him out of the way of the walker’s teeth.

“Shit!” Daryl’s shout of shock had been only slightly slower than his knife, but Rick had lost his balance spectacularly, throwing his weight onto a shelf. The shelf had collapsed into two others, which had also collapsed. That had caused the already rotten floor to fall in, and Rick to fall with it, landing in a basement.  Rick had heard Daryl yell something, but his head had been ringing.  He stared up at Daryl who was staring down at him with an almost comic look of horror on his face. Rick barely had the sense to jump up and search around the murky gloom for some kind of shelter.

“Shit, that’s gonna bring them from all over. Sounded like a damn explosion.”

Rick thought that Daryl was perhaps over-exaggerating a tiny bit. He wouldn’t call it quite an _explosion_ per se. A tiny _flare-up_ , perhaps. “There’s a room. Storage room, looks like.” Rick called up to Daryl who was still muttering under his breath. “We’re gonna have to try to wait it out, hope they go away.”

Rick _did_ manage to clear the room this time. The storeroom was small, but it would do.  He found that there was a small bit of light that leaked in from a hole in the ceiling, which meant that they would be able to be scented by the walkers if they gave them a reason to think there was a little snack here.

Daryl hopped down onto one of the shelves and onto the floor, making it look much more graceful than Rick’s spectacular landing on his ass.  Daryl managed to move silently, and Rick shut the door behind him with a very soft _click_.

The dreary weather and rain meant that there wasn’t much light to shine in through the store’s first floor windows, and even less trickled down the hole in the ceiling. Just enough for the two of them to see each other in the semi-darkness.

Daryl looked around the small room, and Rick heard the frustrated huff of his breath.  Rick wanted to apologize, but he knew the walkers would go away soon enough. Hopefully too many of them wouldn’t fall down into the basement.  He followed Daryl’s glance and realized exactly what had caused his almost-sigh.

Pre-end of the world, the small space had been used as a storage closet for office supplies. RIck spied several receipt books, two boxes of copy paper, what looked like about seven-thousand Sharpies,  three staplers, some scissors, and a milk crate full of composition notebooks.  There was just enough room for both of them to stand next to each other, side-to-side.

So here they were...

... Together.

...

_In a closet._

Rick felt his lips twitch as he fought to keep his grin on his face, and not rolling out of his mouth in hysterical laughter.  He didn’t even cause any sound as he carefully took a Sharpie and a comp book and opened the first page. He uncapped the Sharpie, thought for a second and wrote:

 

 

 

Rick blinked a little rapidly. 

Was he?

Was he _flirting?_

He snuck a glance out of the corner of his eye at Daryl, who seemed to be staring really intently at the ceiling.  As much as he wanted to continue this, he also knew there was a statistical improbability that either one of them would manage to make it all the way through an actual verbal conversation. Not with the stellar communication skills they were both sporting. The written word seemed to be working fairly well. At least on his side.

RIck thought for a second and wrote:

Daryl read it, then practically snatched the Sharpie from his hand.

Rick nodded.  Feeling greatly daring, he leaned over and kissed Daryl’s bare shoulder. The butterflies in his stomach were more like dinosaurs playing hopscotch, but he did it, and the low, dark gasp of Daryl catching his breath made it worth it.

There was a thud and another crash, and one of the walkers were cut off, mid-growl. Rick always got a sick sense of satisfaction when one of them managed to kill themselves, like somewhere Darwin was looking down on what remained of humanity and laughing.

Daryl held up one finger and Rick thought about what he said. Once he’d gotten past the _weirdness_ of it all, of the idea of some version of himself being fictionalized, it was pretty damn flattering.  

Rick shook his head, and mentally slapped himself in the forehead, forcing himself to pay attention. He quickly shoved a handful of the Sharpies into his pockets, and stuck a few of the notebooks in the back waistband of his jeans, inside his shirt.

_Game on, Grimes. Jesus._

Daryl looked to make sure that he was ready, and Rick nodded.  It was about as quiet as it was going to get, even with the crash of however the walker had killed itself.  Daryl threw open the door and Rick jumped out, taking the left part of the room. Daryl followed him a half a heartbeat later.  

There were only seven of them, and Rick turned so that his back was to Daryl’s without thinking about it.

It was just what they did; as easy as breathing. Trust each other- help and protect each other.

The walkers went down quietly. Rick didn’t bother with the gun- he’d been dumb lately but he wasn’t a _complete_  idiot- and Daryl’s knife work was just as lethal as his bow. It wasn’t neat, and the lightning gave the whole thing a nightmarish effect that Rick could have really done without, thanks, but once it was over, it was easy enough to retrace their steps up the broken shelving and kill the few walkers that were still milling around outside.

Daryl grabbed him and kissed him again as soon as they were out of there.

Rick was really starting to approve of this.

When they broke apart, Rick had to take a second to wipe the stupid grin off of his face.

“We really needta get back. Here, let’s hang a little bit left so I can check my traps. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Rick nodded, and they started walking, weapons at the ready.  The rain had stopped for awhile,  which was nice. The wind blew through the Georgia woods around them, and Rick noticed that they were walking a little more closely than they normally would have done.  The three miles or so were made in a comfortable enough silence.  Rick mulled over what Daryl had written in the supply closet, and he both wanted to answer some of it, and not break the peaceful silence.

By the time the prison gates were visible, Rick had an idea of what to write.  They made their way back inside the first gate, and waited patiently for Glenn to open the second.

“I’m gonna write you somethin’.” His announcement was probably poorly-timed, especially with the way that Glenn stared suspiciously at the both of them.

Daryl did that funny half-sort of grin again. It did things to Rick’s insides.  

“I’ll need a bit of time to get it on paper. I want it to be perfect.”

Daryl nodded and turned left, heading into the family section, and Rick turned right, wiggling to get the notebooks he’d stashed away before they slipped down into his asscrack.  He waved to Michonne, who gave his walker-guts covered clothes a one up, one down, but she wisely didn’t say anything.  

Rick washed up before checking in on Carl (who was sullenly reading a Hardy Boys novel) and Judith (who had figured out how to suck on her own toes) before making himself comfortable.  He got the notebook back out and absolutely didn’t touch his fingertips over the words he and Daryl had written to each other before turning to a new page and staring down at the blank paper.

It was harder than he thought to get words onto that paper.

He had words in his head.

He could picture entire scenarios: plots and settings and snippets of dialogue. What he could _not_ do was get any of those motherfuckers onto that paper.

Rick sighed, frustrated.

He stared at the paper until his tongue poked out the side of his mouth in concentration, then realized that he looked like a doofus and made himself stop.

Then though, inspiration struck.  Keeping it simple was the way to go. Emotional. Poignant. Heart-wrenching with a touch of adoration.  Rick wrote it down, tore out the paper, and folded it in half. By then it was dinner time, and Rick thought that with a bit of luck, he could catch Daryl before everyone showed up for food.

“Hey.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow, and they walked into an unused cell block. Rick found that he was strangely nervous as he handed over the note.

Daryl unfolded it and read.

 

 

**TBC!**

 

* * *

 

**Notes in this chapter:**

**(Dialogue between Rick and Daryl, as if they were passing notes)**

**Note 1-**  

 **R**   Fancy meeting you here.

 **D**   Are you fuckin kidding me, Rick? NOW you want to pass notes?

 **R** Well, we could have the walkers in here with us.

 **D**     Thanks, Pollyanna.

 **R**    Pollyanna? Really?

 **D**  Fuck you, man. Merle had a thing for that Hayley Mills chick. We watched a lot of Disney. Don’t even get me started on the Parent Trap.

 **R**  You realize that even your words look defensive? And are you pissed that I’m writing you? ‘Cuz it seems to me that is one helluva kettle calling a pot black.

 

**Note 2-**

**D** Naw. Not pissed. Just tryin’ to think of what to write.

 **R**   You trying to save my delicate sensibilities? :)

 **D**     Please don’t write smiley fa- wait. Are you flirting with me? ...

 

**Note 3- (Rick)**

I think that I’m beginning to see why you liked writing stuff, but I don’t know if I understand why. Why didn’t you just come and ask me? Why did I have to find it... how I did? I’m not complaining. Well, now I’m not. I admit that I reacted kind of... badly at first.

Look, I know we’re probably trapped here for a good while. It’s gonna get dark, and one of us is gonna sneeze or something and every goddamn walker out there is going to think we rang the dinner bell. So, as ridiculous as this is, I’m putting it out there. Don’t answer if you don’t want to, but I’d really like to know why you felt you couldn’t just tell me that you wanted me. ...

 

**Note 4- (Daryl)**

Why would I? Hell, I didn’t even know there was a chance that you even were open to the possibility. You had Lori and... well. It seemed safe enough when I caught Carol writing that shit.

Man she has some imagination. My dick is NOT that big.

Anyway, She was bored, and it was flattering... and it was safe, ya know? Fake and not real and harmless. But then you read it, and...

Holy shit. I can’t believe I tried writing that. It’s harder than you think.

 

**Note 5- (Rick)**

Daryl. Your eyes twinkle like a cow’s ass. Wanna fuck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm interested in seeing where you'd like this to go next! <3 Thanks for reading....


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick gets... uh. Cocky.
> 
> Thanks to **MaroonCamaro** for the "I've never tried it like this before." line!

Daryl made a sound that sounded suspiciously like “ _eep_ ,” then made another sound that reminded Rick of someone who stifling a laugh with every bit of muscle control they had left.  Daryl reached up and before Rick could flinch away, tangled his fingers in Rick’s still-damp t-shirt, yanking him forward the two feet that separated them and kissing him so well that for a second Rick forgot who he was and who he was kissing.

Daryl’s lips moved over his, the fingers of his other hand tangling in Rick’s slightly curly hair. The rain from earlier had caused the curls to tighten. If Carol was around, she’d glance at him and hum ‘cha-cha-cha-Chia Pet!’ under her breath.

But Carol wasn’t around.

No one was around. Just him, and Daryl, and their mouths, and oh holy god above Rick was going to come in his pants if Daryl kept making that low, almost-growly moan. Daryl kissed Rick’s jaw, and did something illegal to his neck, and Rick felt almost overwhelmed with the idea that they were alone, that no one was gonna come looking for them, barring some emergency of some sort, and (and this was really the kicker) Daryl wanted him. _Really_ wanted him; not just some fluke of being caught in the rain together.

Rick sucked in a deep breath and realized two things:

1- He was gonna write Daryl goofy shit every day of the rest of their lives if this was the result, and

2- He was just about done letting Daryl take over this little shindig. It was time for him to show Daryl just how much he was wanted, to leave absolutely no doubt of how much Rick needed him.

Rick dropped to his knees, trying manfully not to wince when his bony kneecaps whacked the concrete floor. It was just about the least sexy thing that he could have done, but Daryl didn’t seem to notice.  He was staring down at Rick with his mouth open just a little, in utter shock.

“I never tried it like this before.”

Was that really his voice? Rick almost didn’t recognize the sounds his throat produced. His voice was lower than normal with arousal and want, and he saw Daryl shiver slightly at the sound.  Rick shuffled closer on his knees and rested his fingers on the snap of Daryl’s khakis.

“You ... never?”

Rick raised an eyebrow and feeling incredibly daring, cupped the hard length of Daryl’s cock through the thick cotton material with his right hand, sliding the fingers of his left hand against  the heat  of Daryl’s skin, behind his waistband,

“Nope. Never. Not with a man. Wasn’t really _with_ Lori ‘til she finally told me what the hell to do, so you are gonna have to give me pointers.”

Rick would have facepalmed if his hands weren’t so busy. He was sure he just lost about a billion sexy points for mentioning his dead wife to the man he was currently attempting to suck off. Daryl only swallowed hard enough that his adam’s apple bobbed, and then waved his hands in a ‘have at’ gesture.

Rick ignored the battalion of butterflies in the bottom of his stomach and pressed lightly on Daryl’s length with the palm of his hand, knowing just what he was feeling as he listened to Daryl suck in a serrated breath at the touch. It was easy enough to undo the button and gently work down the zipper.  His nervousness abated slightly with the realization that he wasn’t a _complete_ idiot at this. For Christ’s sake, he’d had a blowjob before. He knew what it felt like, and he knew what he liked. Lick, suck, mind the teeth, don’t forget the balls,  repeat.

Rick darted a glance up to Daryl’s face, only to be met with raised eyebrows and a smirk.

....and the theme from _Rocky_ hummed just slightly off-key under one sarcastic asshole’s breath.

Rick rolled his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek so he wouldn’t laugh at Daryl’s  wickedly dry and sometimes strange sense of humor. Could have been worse. Could have been the theme from _Deliverance._

Rick could only see part of Daryl’s cock and a small patch of pubic hair in the vee of his khakis. There was a small scar on Daryl’s abdomen that just begged to be kissed, and Rick did it without thinking about it. From there it was easy enough to edge down Daryl’s pants. The weight of Daryl’s knife sheath without his hips to keep them up sent the them to a tangle onto the concrete floor.  Daryl’s cock fought gravity for just a moment before jutting out. It was easy enough for Rick to wrap his fingers around the thick, reddish shaft.  It hardened even further in Rick’s grip, and the sound of Daryl groaning made the butterflies in Rick’s stomach dissipate as he leaned forward and licked the head.

“Aw _Fuck_.” Daryl moaned, drawing out the ‘fuh’ then biting off the ‘k’ sound as he brought his own hand up to muffle the sounds he was making.  Rick understood the need for silence, but didn’t want Daryl to be quiet. He narrowed his eyes and gathered his resolve. People swallowed all the time. He was fairly sure he didn’t have to worry about getting pregnant, and it couldn’t possibly taste _that_ bad.

Rick licked around the head, bracing himself with one hand against Daryl’s thigh, and the other moving up the shaft to meet his mouth.  Daryl tasted a mostly like skin, and a little like well... okay. Come wasn’t  fine chocolate, but it wasn’t exactly the worst thing Rick had ever had in his mouth either. He looked up to check his progress with Daryl. When their eyes met, Daryl’s knees collapsed, the wall at his back the only thing keeping him upright.  Rick tightened his mouth and started to suck, tentatively moving his head up and down, being careful not to choke himself.

Granted he was a bit rusty- it had been awhile for him-, but Rick would lose another billion unsexy points for awkward sexual shenanigans if he started gagging in the middle of this whole experience.

The nails of Daryl’s left hand scrabbled and scratched against the wall, while his right hand cupped the back of Rick’s head gently, almost reverently tangling his fingers in Rick’s curls.

Rick sucked harder, working his mouth down further. He ignored his gag reflex and fed himself another few inches of Daryl’s cock, before pulling off with what seemed to him a ridiculous amount of drool.  Daryl was moaning low in his throat, his fingers tugging almost too painfully on Rick’s hair as he writhed under him. Rick liked that a lot. Rick’s cock liked it even more. He smirked a little and worked his way down again, sucking on the parts that Daryl seemed to most sensitive.

Maybe that’s why Rick didn’t hear the footsteps.

Maybe Daryl just didn’t give a shit.

When Carol stuck her head around the corner her ‘eep!’ of surprise had Daryl freezing against the wall, his eyes wide enough that Rick was pretty sure was gonna do himself permanent injury. Rick would have said something, but he’d been raised never to talk with his mouth full.

“Um. Dinner. When you’re. Uh. Done?” Carol’s voice hiked up at the end in a question.

Rick calmly pulled off and turned so that she wouldn’t get any more than an eyeful than she already was.  Carol’s face was bright red. She looked a little like she was about to scream in shock and a lot as though she was about to faint.

Daryl nodded and attempted to shoo her away. His hand drifted to Rick’s shoulder in a death grip that pretty well ensured that Rick wouldn’t be moving and exposing all of Daryl’s dangling bits to the grinning woman, only a few feet away. Carol turned and started to scramble away.

“Oh. Carol?” Rick’s voice had a low, thick quality that made Daryl shiver. 

Carol froze.

“When you write this up later, make sure you get all the details right.”

  
  


**TBC!**


	10. Chapter 10

”Ow. _Damn_.”

Rick was too busy wincing to respond.  “That sounds... painful.”

“Wasn’t gonna recommend--.”

Rick took the notebook from Daryl’s hands and shut it.   “Guess she took my recommendations seriously. About ah... you know. Us being to--”

“Dad! Hurry come quick!”

Daryl and Rick stared at each other, faces both mirroring the same ‘aw shit’ expression. Rick didn’t even think about it, he just turned and started sprinting, Daryl’s boots thudding about two feet behind him.  Carl’s already wobbly teenage voice had cracked with fear, and the sound had been enough for both of them to forget about the journal that Carol had given Rick and spring into action.

The inside of the prison was empty. All hands on deck were needed with whatever emergency was outside. Judith followed their frantic pace with her eyes, but neither of them stopped to comfort her.  When even Beth, Hershel and Carol were missing, they knew the shit had hit the fan.

One of the fences had almost collapsed.  Rick ran to the fence, watching while Glenn and Maggie stabbed the walkers through the prison gate with knives, but the hubbub caused the other walkers  in the vicinity to gather up, and the sheer weight of them had overwhelmed the metal fence.

“We need logs. Planks, something stronger.” Rick glanced back over his shoulder to see Daryl turn on his heel and sprint towards one of the tie-off sections they had made for quick egress. “Go! We got this! Get us something or the whole thing’s gonna go.” Glenn and Maggie had it under control, with everyone using their body weight to brace the struts that they had.  They were keeping ahead of the walkers pushing against the fence, but just barely.

Michonne broke off and ran behind Rick to help Daryl.  Rick stopped to pick up one of the hatchets they had strewn about- while Judith wasn’t mobile it wasn’t a problem, and Carl knew better, but they’d have to find another solution eventually- and Michonne did the same with a hacksaw.  By the time they pounded up to the fence, Daryl had untied a space free for them to squeeze through.  

“There’s some firewood started over there.” Rick pointed and Michonne and Daryl nodded.  They knew they were working against the clock. If they didn’t get a stronger strut in place, they’d lose the fence, and there was a high probability that their people would be hurt. If that small section of fence took out any other sections, then they’d have to fall back to the inner fields.

The firewood they’d began to cut had been a logical place for Daryl to go.  Before they cut everything into logs, they had stripped the branches and left the fallen trees.  Without speaking, the three of them knew what to do, just by virtue of the fact that they’d all grabbed certain weapons on their way out. Michonne would use the hacksaw on one part of the tree, while Rick hacked at it from the other side with his hatchet, so they had a small enough piece to wedge into the ground and brace against the fence. As it was, the tree was much too heavy for even the three of them to carry. Daryl hadn’t grabbed any tree-cutting implements, so he ended up watching for any stray walkers that might wander over to investigate the noise they were making.  

Fortunately the trees were more saplings than redwoods, so they managed to get the the poles cut and trimmed in a fairly short amount of time.  Rick and Michonne knew that Daryl wouldn’t let anything happen to either of them, so they were able to work quickly and with the accuracy honed by knowing that without the blade skills they had, they’d surely be dead.

“We got company,” Daryl muttered, already swinging into action. The bowie knife he kept at his side flashed in the sun as he stabbed both walkers in the head. Rick jerked away from the tree to help, but the two hadn’t attracted anyone else’s attention.

“I think we’re ready.” Michonne tied her hacksaw to her belt and hefted one end of the tree. Daryl hustled to help her, and Rick got the third.  That would leave all of them exposed to a possible attack, but they really didn’t have much choice- they had to get the struts in place, and fast.

Once they got moving it was simple enough.

Beth and Maggie squeezed through the opening once they saw the three of them coming and started screaming in order to lead the herd away from the broken part of the fence.  Both girls had blood on their fingers that the walkers seemed to appreciate by the way they shambled to the noisy- dinner-smelling prey in front of them.  While the small herd was distracted, Rick, Michonne, and Daryl moved the struts through the small space, and Glenn, Carl, and Hershel quickly moved to help.  Once the three of them and all three struts were through the small fence, Maggie and Beth ran towards the next break (they had spread them out about thirty feet apart), untied it, and darted through.  

As terrifying as that many walkers could be, they were also predictable, and with Maggie and Beth on fence detail, keeping the main body of them distracted, the rest could support the ailing fence with a speed born of the desperate.  Without that fence, their prison would be a helluva lot smaller.  

With the fence braced and the strut dug into place. Almost without thinking about it, Rick sprinted for one of the vehicles, and started leading the small herd away with a few honks of the horn.  He heard Daryl and Carol yelling something at him, but ignored them. His priority was to help lead them away from the prison.  Maggie and Beth were doing fine, but they could quickly get overwhelmed if he didn’t lead them in another direction.  There was a bit of a trick to driving slowly enough that the walkers still walked after him and providing enough noise that none of them got distracted, but Rick eventually got the hang of it.  Once Rick got to the turnoff for Woodbury he turned around and drove around the milling walkers with a farewell honk of his horn then sped back towards the prison.

Rick was pleased to see that in his absence they had braced the struts a little better in the earth, and figured the fence looked secure enough. The yard was empty though, and it seemed to take forever for Carl to stomp over to the gate to let him in.  The car trick had worked, and there were no walkers milling around. For once the prison yard was clear.  

“What’s the matter?” Rick cocked his head- unsure if this was typical teenage pissyness or an actual problem of which he should be aware.

“You did it _again_ , dad! You just took off- didn’t tell anyone where you were going. You had all of them and just you in a car and--” Carl made a disgusted sound and slammed the gate shut.  “Just... nevermind. Everyone’s.....” Carl waved his hand around in a gesture Rick took to mean ‘not here’.   Carl jogged away towards the back part of the prison, near D block without another word.  Rick sighed. _Shit._ That was going to take some work to mend if he wanted to have any sort of relationship with the boy.

Rick pushed back his hair and decided somewhat on the spot that he could probably use a wash, especially since he had relative privacy.  It was a bit weird to have everyone congregated into another part of the prison, but since they’d cleaned it up, and there was no reason to watch the fences (although that would change the first time there was another thunderstorm) Rick just kind of shrugged and went with it.

The shower was empty, and habit had him taking the quickest shower that he could and still get clean. Woe to the member of their odd little family who used over their daily allotted water ration. Beth might look sweet but she could be just as mouthy as any of the rest of them if she didn’t get to have a hot shower once a week.

The tepid water did a lot to relax him, and Rick turned off the faucet and stepped out of the shower stall whistling a little tune under his breath. He’d have to see what was going on with the sudden disappearances- did they have something cool going on?, but with any luck, he and Daryl could get back to what they’d started before--

Rick didn’t even have time to react before the hand clamped down on his shoulder, swinging Rick’s wet, naked body into the wall so that his back crashed against it. Daryl’s mouth was punishing on his, their teeth clacking together as Rick fought his instinct to fight back.  Rick remembered with sudden clarity how utterly pissed off both Daryl and Carol had been when he’d hopped into the car and drove off and shivered.

An angry kiss was a lot different from the kisses they’d shared before.  Daryl held his chin, his own body unyielding against Rick’s. Every single thing in his posture screamed that Daryl was _not_ happy.

RIck found himself just doing his best to kiss up, although he quickly realized that Daryl never crossed the line into hurting him. The kiss gentled slightly, but Daryl was definitely leading, and Rick was more than happy to follow.

Daryl wouldn’t even let him separate completely for air, before kissing down Rick’s jawline and onto his neck, sucking a mark into his skin.  Rick’s knees went a little funny and he moaned loudly, the sound echoing in the cavernous shower.

“Come on.”

RIck could only nod, still a little dazed as Daryl turned and stalked off towards an unused part of the prison. It had been cleaned and scoured within an inch of its life. On the floor near the back of the cell were two mattresses, covered with a sheet and a quilt. Pillows had been flung all over the place, and there was a small cooler sitting nearby.

Rick felt incredibly guilty when he saw the lengths that Daryl had gone to prepare a little getaway for them.

“We got about an hour until dark. Sorry but--” Daryl’s voice broke in, startling Rick out of his reverie.

“It’s not safe at night,” Rick whispered, still clutching the towel like a lifeline.

“You... I don’t.” Daryl made a disgusted sound and turned, rubbing his hands through his hair. The gesture spoke of frustration, without the belligerence that Daryl displayed when he was pissed.

He was just hurt.

_Fuck._

“You’re pissed cuz I left.”

“Naw. I ain’t pissed that you left. I woulda done the same thing. _But_ -” Daryl emphasized, holding up a finger, “I woulda taken you with me. Or Michonne, or Glenn. Hell, even Bethie. Just not gone---”

“At it alone.”

Daryl nodded.

Daryl opened his mouth, then shut it, looking a little confused for a minute. He patted at his pockets and came up with a folded sheet of paper.  Its creases were so worn that some of the writing had been smudged. Judging by the lightness of the writing- things had been added later.  Rick’s lips twitched.

“I didn’t want to forget, so I wrote it down.”

 

 

Rick swallowed and folded the paper carefully, using the time to gather what thoughts he had left. That note was not at all what Rick had expected; the first part- maybe. The second? Not a chance in hell. For Daryl to be so brave, and to put everything out there like that....

Rick dropped the towel and reached out to Daryl, setting the note in his hands. He wasn’t good with words like that, not usually when it counted.  

“I--” He just shook his head and took a step forward, mouth working around words that were stuck in his throat.

Daryl, thank god, seemed to understand. Like he always did. He shrugged and took a matching step forward so that their bodies were once again lined up.  Daryl’s gust of breath seemed punched out when Rick cupped both of Daryl’s cheeks in his hands, and kissed him again.  Rick took his time. An hour of freedom? An hour to show Daryl what he was feeling?

That he could do.

Daryl’s mouth was hot, his tongue pushing against Rick’s in answer to his own sliding against Daryl’s, each of them going back and forth with ownership of the kiss. Rick couldn’t help the involuntary twitch of his hips, and Daryl’s low groan of approval made his head swim.

Or maybe that was just lack of oxygen from the kiss.

It took them a few tries to separate. Air seemed to be secondary. Rick however, reminded himself that blue probably wasn’t his best color and allowed their mouths to separate. His lips tingled with sensation, and he found that he was quickly growing attached to the feel of stubble burn.

“You good with all this?” Daryl indicated the bed with his hand, and in answer, Rick pulled at the buttons on Daryl’s sleeveless button-up shirt, eager to get him as naked as he was. His cock felt heavy as it fought gravity, bumping up against Daryl’s hip.

Daryl’s low bedroom laugh was Rick’s new favorite sound.  He helped with his khakis, kicking them off with a curse, only to stop at his boots. Daryl fell back onto the mattresses, and Rick attempted to  squat to help without bending his dick in half.  Daryl snorted at his attempts and Rick gave up trying, lying back on the mattress and spreading his legs a little.  

Now aside from a few kisses and one painful case of blue balls post-interrupted blowjob, Rick might not have had the actual experience with anything on the gay side of the sexual spectrum but he wasn’t dumb. He knew what he’d want to see Daryl do, and it was just a matter of getting over himself enough to let it happen.

Rick tilted his legs, tilting his pelvis so that his cock bounced against his abs, leaving a tiny bit of precome sliding onto his hip.

Daryl made a sound like “ _fuck_ ” and froze for a second, eyes widening almost comically.  Encouraged, Rick took himself in hand, stroking a few times just because he could. Rick hadn’t really before found it necessary to... perform... as it were, but this? Daryl’s intense gaze focused between his face and Rick’s cock like he couldn’t bear to look away, and it made Rick’s whole body flush with pleasure.

“Been thinkin’ of you like this. Since you....” Daryl trailed off, staring at Rick’s mouth. “God, I want to fuck you.”

Rick ‘s breath caught, eyes jerking to meet Daryl’s gaze. For some reason, he hadn’t expected Daryl to come right out and say it like that, which on second thought was stupid. Of _course_ Daryl wouldn’t hide what he wanted, not like this. Not with Rick. Rick’s whole body went hot in a blush that felt almost nuclear, then cold when he shivered at the thought. His cock throbbed, echoing his increased heartbeat.

Rick had to clear his throat twice before he could talk. “Is this okay? Or do you want me on my stomach?”

Daryl slid his hands up Rick’s thighs, stopping on his hips. “Think this’ll be best your first time.”

Rick flipped over so fast he felt dizzy afterwards.  It was only luck that kept him from permanently maiming his dick.

Daryl snorted, amused.

“You know how this is gonna work, right?”

Rick nodded, moving where Daryl guided him, more than willing to let Daryl take the lead with this. He heard the sound of a cap being opened, and rocked a little on his knees, feeling completely exposed with his ass bared to the world. Daryl had put a pillow under his hips so that they tilted up just slightly, and arranged his cock so that it was pointing down towards the mattress. It felt kind of weird, but the soft friction against his shaft when he shifted was far from the worse thing that he felt.

There was a wet sound, and Daryl’s cold fingers brushed against the crease of his ass, sliding down and tracing the rim of his hole. It felt a little weird, and a lot different, and Rick froze for a second, getting used to it. Daryl slid in the tip of his finger, and worked it in and out a few times, sliding out and around the rim before going back inside.

It took a few times before the shivers marching up and down Rick’s spine told him if he liked it or not, but when he clued into it, Rick felt himself grow even harder. He had never dreamed that that part of his body could be so sensitive, and just lay there for a few minutes, feeling Daryl slowly working him open. There was a stretch, but never anything that hurt. It felt.... _god_. So, so good to have Daryl behind him, to feel his sweat and his breath on Rick’s lower back and thighs.

“Rick...” Daryl pressed his forehead to Rick’s hip and Rick realized all at once that he had rocked up onto his knees, and was fucking himself onto Daryl’s slick fingers, working his hips in tight little circles. Stopping was much harder than he ever dreamed it would be.

“Come on,” Rick moved the pillow and spread his legs open, bracing himself against the wall of the cell. Daryl cursed and fumbled behind him, and Rick heard the rip of a familiar-sounding foil packet. The sound of lube sliding onto Daryl’s latex-sheathed cock was too good to pass up, and for the first time, Rick turned to look back over his shoulder. Daryl had sat back on his heels, and a light sheen of sweat had covered his body. From this angle, Daryl’s arms looked huge, and Rick wanted to feel Daryl pressed against him again. He licked his lips, almost in anticipation.

So, he did something that had he not been so turned on, and had Carol not given him the damn idea in her damn fic, Rick probably would never had felt comfortable enough to do:

He braced his shoulder on the wall and reached back, curving his back so his ass stuck out and spreading his own cheeks so that Daryl got one helluva eyeful.

The sound Daryl made- somewhat like all of his internal organs had collapsed at the same time- was _amazingly_ satisfying.

Rick felt the press of Daryl’s cock against his thigh, then nudging against his tailbone to slide in the lube and sweat collected there, before bumping down over the rim of his stretched hole.

“Aw, _Christ,_ ” Daryl sucked in a shocked breath and Rick’s mouth fell open as Daryl started to press inside.  Rick had been worked open so well that there was only a brief flare of resistance, before the head of Daryl’s cock slid slowly inside.

Rick flung his hands onto the wall again and held himself up, half-afraid he’d crumble into a million pieces, overwhelmed by the intimacy of having someone inside of him for the first time.

He could feel Daryl’s heart thundering against Rick’s back, and Rick felt a tiny whisper of a kiss against the very top of his spine, as Daryl waited for some kind of cue that he was okay.  Rick tentatively pushed back towards Daryl’s hips, and Daryl responded by gently moving the tilt of Rick’s hips, changing the angle just enough that _something_ sparked and juddered inside of him.

Rick’s cock jerked without him touching it.

Rick forgot about being quiet as he cried out, a shocked, needy sound that he almost didn’t recognize.

As though that had been what he’d been waiting for, Daryl and RIck began moving in tandem. Daryl slowly started thrusting, rocking his hips at first until Rick started pushing back. It only took a few minutes for them to establish a rhythm.  Daryl didn’t hit that spot again, but Rick hardly noticed. He had his own hand wrapped around his cock, almost as an afterthought, only to whine when Daryl’s fingers tangled with his.

“Daryl, Daryl... Dar.. aw fuck. Oh....”

Rick didn’t even realize he was speaking out loud until Daryl scraped his teeth on the back of his shoulder.

That was all he needed.

Rick came so hard that his come shot across the wall’s surface. The second spurt dribbled over their tangled fingers, and by  the third Rick forgot how his higher motor functions worked.  He was barely aware of Daryl moaning behind him as he collapsed against the wall after his strength  gave out on him. Daryl sagged on top of him for just a moment, and Rick was absurdly pleased to take his weight. It grounded him. Rick moved slightly and Daryl eased out of him- they both winced- pulling off the condom, then reached near the cooler for a cloth to clean off most of the sweat and come off of Rick’s body. The rest of the water he gave to Rick to drink,  who in turn wiped the sweat and come off of Daryl’s body with arms that still felt like they belonged to a slightly sleepy octopus.

Rick curled into Daryl in something he knew neither of them would ever term as ‘cuddling’, but looked and felt a lot like that. Rick pressed his hot, sweaty face into Daryl’s neck and kissed his collarbone.  

“You know I fucking love you, right?”

Daryl kind of shrugged. “‘Cuz I cleaned up your come? Always thought it was kind of polite, really.”

Fortunately for Rick, his realized almost immediately (well, after that one bright spot of panic) that Daryl was completely kidding.

“Yes Daryl. I fucking love you because you cleaned up my come. And hey, thanks for the condom. Kept everything nice and clean, although, I gotta admit that I’d really like to feel it without. Ain’t like you’re gonna get me pregnant, and I already had my mouth on your dick so...” He trailed off, shrugging.

Daryl pulled back a little so that he could look at Rick properly. Rick was completely unprepared for the absolutely dopey look of happiness on Daryl’s face.  “You realize you’re trying to talk me into having sex again.”

Rick nodded solemnly.  “We... gotta.”

“Gotta?”

“Yeah. It’s our... our... duty to inspire the literary circuit ‘round these parts. Just think of how happy Carol will be.”

Daryl tightened his arms, making it damn clear that Carol wasn’t the only one of the three of them that would be perfectly happy to continue their association.  Rick set his head back onto Daryl’s shoulder and realized he had his own version of a utterly goofy grin on his face to match Daryl’s.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew that this kind of moment wasn’t going to last. Their lives were way too uncertain, to fraught with complications and danger.

But for now?

Now Rick was just going to enjoy it. And who knows. Maybe he’d be inspired to  write about it.

 

... one day.

 

 

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**Notes in this chapter:**

**Note 1-** Rick’s voice caught in a gasp as Daryl moved above him.  Rick hadn’t been prepared for the way the candlelight would highlight the lines of Daryl’s face, nor for the... intimacy of having Daryl’s hands on his shoulders, Daryl’s hips in between Rick’s legs, Daryl’s cock buried deep inside of him, or Daryl’s trembling lips brushing over his.  He’d forgotten how incredible it felt to share someone else’s breath, or to feel so connected to another person that even his heart beat in sync.  Rick shifted slightly under Daryl’s body and bit his lip. He and Daryl had been in such a hurry to enjoy the few minutes alone together that they hadn’t stopped to find any lubrica--

 **Note 2-**  Rick, Carol said we gotta work on our communication before we drive the rest of our family absolute bugshit.  So this is me, communicating.:

 

  * You’re the best goddamn dad I’ve seen. Carl and Asskicker are gonna make it ‘cuz of you and how you raise them.

  * You are our leader, and I respect you for that. Even when you piss me off, which ain’t often, but when ya do it fuckin’ sticks, man. Goddamn..

  * You are fucking stubborn as hell.... and I love you for it but if you fuckin leave without me again I’ll put my boot up your ass.




 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta say, this thing was ridiculous to write. Fun as hell though, although you notice my angstwhore tendencies didn't exactly go away. Ah well.
> 
> I do have planned a rather longer project, so if you like my writing (and if you have an account here on AO3) you might want to add me to your author alert subscription pages, or add me to your tumblr. I usually post updates there as well!
> 
> Thank you for reading and I appreciate all the comments and you guys encouraging my silliness. <3


	11. Pictures in the fic- all together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a dumbass. I didn't know my host went down. Here ya go....

Hi guys!

First off- Thank you for letting me know that the pics were fucked. Again. For the third time. If you want to read about [why photobucket is a bunch of fuckheads](http://rubyelf.livejournal.com/643848.html), you can do so.  But, if you too use images, here is how I fixed it. 

Currently, Dropbox is the only site where it's not against their TOS to have them host images, with a linkback. Thanks to CJ in Ao3 Support who helped me to fix the issue.  

 

> Here are the instructions if you can use them.

>   1. Find the image in your Dropbox
>   2. Select "Share"
>   3. Select "Create a Link"
>   4. Make sure it says "Anyone with the link can View the file" - if not, select Link Settings and adjust
>   5. Select "Copy Link"
>   6. Paste the link into any text editor - the link will be https://www.dropbox.com/s/q6uzkkrji0iekhw/ao3.png?dl=0 (replace your link with mine)
>   7. Remove the ?dl=0
>   8. Change the www.dropbox.com to dl.dropboxusercontent.com Use the https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/s/q6uzkkrji0iekhw/ao3.png
> 


(again, use your image not this specific link) in the HTML editor in IMG tags or in the RTE Image button dialog and volia! Let me know in the comments if you have any questions.

 

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for everyone who has read or rec'd this fic.


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